by Olivia Miles
“I’m used to working all day,” Nate said. “I’m not sure if I’d know how to sit back and relax, to be honest. But to answer your question, no, I haven’t taken a break since arriving here. It would seem my aunt had plans for me from the moment she knew I was coming.”
“You’re good to her,” Kara said gently.
Nate gave a modest shrug. “Not good enough. I feel bad that I haven’t visited before. Life gets busy.”
Kara nodded. He could say that again. Soon, Molly would be back in Boston, and Kara knew she’d be kicking herself for not having been able to properly enjoy this visit more. This afternoon they were going to look at invitations together—that was something—and after, they’d have dinner while their mother was at dance rehearsals. Still, the passing of time was always on her mind at this time of year. And by next year, who knew… maybe Molly would be spending the time with her new husband’s family.
“I’m headed over to the pond,” Kara said, gesturing to the end of the town square where the seasonal rink had been constructed. “You’re welcome to join me if you want.”
Her heart sped up as she waited for him to consider her offer. It wasn’t like her to be so forward with men, but Nate wasn’t like any other men. He was a friend, sort of, and he wasn’t a potential boyfriend or anything. He was a visitor, who would be gone all too soon.
She told herself she was just being friendly. After all, the poor guy needed a little fun, and he didn’t know anyone else…
Still, she couldn’t deny the bubble that swelled in her belly when he grinned a little wider and said, “Sure.”
“Great,” she said, managing to keep her tone casual. “They rent skates if you don’t have any.”
“Let me just tell my aunt where I’m going so she doesn’t call the police and report me missing or anything.” Nate appeared to be only half joking. “Sometimes she forgets I’m not ten years old anymore,” he explained ruefully before disappearing through the front door.
Kara took a quick minute to pull her lip gloss from her pocket and swipe it over her lips. She smoothed her ponytail and readjusted her hat and told herself that she was being wholly ridiculous. So he was cute. So he was very cute. Lots of men were cute. It was just that none of them had made her feel that spark before.
A few moments later, Nate appeared at the door again, clutching something thick and wooly in his hands. “She insisted I’d need this,” Nate said, crossing the street to meet her. In the winter sunlight, his eyes appeared lighter than usual, a pale gold, set behind thick brows. She took in that wide grin and the square jaw, and okay, she swooned a little.
Kara inspected the red and white wooly item in his hands. She could have sworn it was made of angora. “Is that a… woman’s hat?” she asked, clasping her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter.
Nate glanced back at the house and then shoved it onto his head. Santa’s jolly face smiled back at her, almost more distracting than Nate’s wicked grin. “Come on,” he said, taking her by the arm. “I’ll take it off once I’m out of sight.”
The red yarn was woven with tinsel that reflected off the sunlight as they crunched through the snow, forgetting the shoveled path in their quest. Nate waited until he was safely beyond the gazebo to pull it off. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “I think this would look better on you.”
“Oh, but I already have my hat,” she demurred, patting her pom-pom.
“That you do,” he said, his eyes roving her face, spreading a tingle of warmth all down her belly. “But something tells me you could wear this hat and somehow still look cute.”
Kara blushed and looked down at the snow, blinking away the compliment as she stared at her boots, the tips of which were cozily close to his. He was a smooth talker, maybe even a little bit of a flirt. Better not to read too much into these things…
“The skate rental stand is just over there,” Kara said, pointing to the wooden shed used for storing boots. She settled herself onto a bench while Nate went to get skates, watching the skaters as she slid off her boots. In the center of the ice, a teenage girl was showing off a camel spin, finishing with a grand flourish that no doubt grabbed the attention of the hockey players down at the end of the rink, trying their best to look like they hadn’t been watching. Kara shook her head, grinning, and began tightening her skate laces.
“Nice skates.” Nate’s slow, deep voice spread a tingle over her as he came to sit beside her. “Do you come here much?”
“Not as often as I’d like,” Kara admitted. “When I was younger, I came every weekend. More on school breaks.”
“Then you must be good,” Nate said, grinning.
“Good enough,” Kara said. She looked at him warily. “Why? You’re not going to challenge me to something again, are you?”
He laughed, a rich, booming sound that echoed through the brittle winter air. “No. I’ll be lucky to stand up without falling on my face,” he said.
“That won’t be anything new for us, will it?” Kara grinned as she stood. She held out her hand. “Come on, last one on the ice buys hot chocolate afterward.”
Nate hadn’t been planning on holding Kara’s hand, no matter how good it felt in his own, despite the layers of gloves he wished he could peel away. His feet wobbled as he hit the ice, and he felt the slip on his blades before he’d even taken his first stroke, but Kara was patient, walking him through it, no hint of amusement noticeable in those piercing blue eyes.
“I didn’t do this much as a kid,” he said after they’d successfully made the first lap.
“Growing up here, it’s what we all did,” Kara said. “Well, except my mom. She runs the dance studio, and she was always too afraid of breaking a limb.” She laughed, but her eyes went flat as a man and little girl passed them.
Her mouth turned downward as she watched them skate, her eyes never leaving the little girl, who giggled and squealed as her father picked her up and twirled her around.
“My dad was the skater in the family. Hockey,” she explained, slanting him a glance. “But he loved the ice. I did, too. Still do.”
“Does he still get out here much?”
Kara looked momentarily startled. She paused before saying, “Oh, no. My dad died when I was ten.”
Nate stopped skating, nearly tripping over his toe pick. He hadn’t expected that one. His aunt Maggie wasn’t shy when it came to the local gossip mill, and this was one thing she hadn’t mentioned. He was suddenly filled with a deep shame for assuming Kara had always had it easy in life. He looked at her, frowning. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Kara shrugged, but he could see the pain in her eyes as she looked far out to the sledding hill, where kids were propelling themselves down the steep slope on inner tubes. “It’s been a long time. When I come here, though… it’s like he’s with me, you know? Like he’s sitting over there on the bench, watching me skate. Like he’s holding my hand.”
Nate glanced down at the hand that still held his and gave it a little squeeze. “Life is unfair,” he said, shaking his head.
“It is,” Kara agreed, “but I’ve learned to live in the moment. Focus on what I have. Enjoy it while I can.”
Nate thought of the time he was spending with his aunt and nodded. “It’s easy to get tripped up by things that don’t really matter.”
“Like the Holiday House contest?” Kara gave him a knowing smile. “Although I enjoy our town’s traditions. It’s part of our culture, part of our community. It’s tight-knit here. I like that.”
Nate didn’t say anything. Tight-knit was something he was all too familiar with, but no matter how close a community, there was always an outsider, always someone left out or cast aside. Someone different from the others.
Something a girl like Kara could never understand.
“Come on,” she said, releasing his hand and skating quickly away from him. He watched her long legs, covered in skintight black leggings, move and sway with each graceful glide, the way her thighs ext
ended, the muscles taut as she expertly maneuvered herself over the mirror-like surface. She stopped and turned, her smile contagious as she waved him toward her. “Five laps. Ready? Go.”
She was off like a shot before he’d even had a chance to process what she was saying, and he shuffled his feet beneath him, knowing it was probably a losing fight, but one he was willing to try for, because there was something about Kara he just couldn’t resist.
Kara accepted her hot chocolate with a smile and took a seat at a table under a heat lamp, choosing a chair that gave her a view of the skaters on the rink. “I think I’ll make a weekly habit of coming here,” she announced, smiling serenely at the view. “It’s important to give yourself a little downtime every once in a while. It helps to keep things in balance.”
Not that he would know. For as long as Nate could remember, he’d had his nose to the books or a computer, or he’d holed himself in the school art studio, creating alternate realities through a brush and canvas. He’d barely looked up, afraid of what would happen when he did. But now that he’d risked it, he had to admit he was enjoying himself. More than he’d ever thought possible.
“How’s the hot chocolate?” he asked as he unzipped his coat. It was surprisingly warm under the heat of the lamp, and both of them had worked up a sweat on the ice, even if Nate’s excursion had been in trying to keep himself from falling rather than getting around.
“Almost as good as the one I make,” Kara said. She set her mug down and glanced at him from under her lashes. “I’ve been meaning to thank you… for suggesting that I include coffee on my menu. I don’t know how I could have missed that.”
“It’s easy,” Nate said, shrugging. “You’re too close to the business to see what areas need improvement. And you were probably so focused on making sure your cookies were just right that you overlooked the drinks. It happens.”
“Well, I’m just glad I’ve rectified it. I’m new at all of this, and it’s important to me that I get it right. There are a lot of people in town who think I’ll fail.”
“Don’t listen to other people or what they say. They can only knock you down if you let them. If you want something badly enough, you’ll find a way to make it work. But don’t do it in spite of them. Do it for yourself.” His face flushed with anger and he reached for his mug, trying to hide it.
Kara was watching him with surprise in her eyes. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
More than she would ever know. He squinted into the sun, waiting for the air to cool the temper from his skin. He didn’t feel the need to elaborate or dwell on his past. Not when he was having such a nice day. She’d hit a nerve, reminding him of a time in his life he’d rather forget. Especially today.
Pulling himself from darkening thoughts, he looked over at her, grinning when he noticed the whipped cream that clung to the corner of her pretty mouth. He waited for her to notice, but she was looking out onto the rink, watching the skaters go past.
He knew he could say something, gesture with a napkin, but instead he reached over, his smile broadening as she blinked at him in startled surprise, and wiped the cream from her mouth with the back of his thumb.
“Whipped cream,” he explained. He felt the pull of her smile under his finger before he brought his hand away.
Kara wiped quickly at her mouth. “Ah, see, a true competitor wouldn’t have lent a hand,” she remarked.
“I hardly think I’ve given you an advantage.” Nate smiled easily, leaning back into his chair, watching as Kara swiped a napkin over her mouth. “Besides, I’ve started to realize you’re a formidable opponent. I’m not so sure how my aunt will feel about that.”
“Oh, none of us stand much of a chance with Kathleen Madison in the mix,” Kara replied. She sighed as she wrapped her hands around the mug. “But it sure would be nice to win.”
“This bakery means a lot to you,” he commented. “When something means that much, you find a way to make it work.”
“I hope so,” Kara sighed. “But it’s not just the fear of hearing people say they told me so that worries me.” Kara stirred the marshmallows into her hot chocolate, watching them melt. “When my dad died, each of us got a bit of inheritance. I saved mine all these years. I… I couldn’t bring myself to spend it, you see. I felt like once it was gone, it was gone, and that last little part of him would be, too. When I started to realize what I wanted to do with my life, that I was good at baking and that I wanted something to call my own, I thought this was a chance to use the money for something good. Every day when I walk into that bakery, I feel like a part of him is there with me. Like he helped me build it.”
Shame nipped at him, sharper than the December breeze, and Nate swallowed hard against his growing guilt. He’d misjudged her. Done exactly what the kids at school had done to him. Labeled her.
“He did help you build it,” he said, leaning forward to touch her wrist.
She smiled sadly at him, the sweet sight tearing at his chest. “I just couldn’t bear it if anything happened to that bakery. I know people think I’ll get bored and quit one day. But I won’t. It’s hard work, I won’t deny that, but I can do it.” She grinned as she locked his eyes. “And winning the Holiday House contest will certainly help.”
He lifted an eyebrow, deciding to follow her change of tone. “Hey, I’ve got a few surprises up my sleeve, I’ll have you know. Don’t count me out just yet.”
“As do I,” she said, pursing her lips. “And as for counting you out… I don’t see that happening.” She held his gaze for a beat, until her cheeks turned a bright pink, and then hastily brought her mug to her lips.
Nate drained the rest of his own beverage, eyeing her carefully. Something was shifting between them. Something he enjoyed.
“You’d better put that Santa cap back on before your aunt catches you without it,” Kara warned, flashing him a mischievous grin. “You know, everything she ever said about you was true, by the way.”
“You mean the stuff about my fancy car and my fancy degree?” Nate shook his head. He only had the car because it was necessary for client meetings—because there was a certain image he needed to portray in his position.
“That, and the other stuff, too. She said you were smart and kind. And quiet. She adores you, Nate. I can see why.”
His brow shot up in surprise. A pretty girl was paying him a compliment, and maybe one he didn’t completely deserve.
He should have trusted his gut, ignored the surface-level information.
Kara was sweet, and pretty, and entirely unlike any other woman he’d met in a while. He certainly hadn’t expected to meet someone like her when he’d agreed to come to Briar Creek for the holidays. But then, he hadn’t known what to expect then.
One thing was becoming certain: This was one Christmas he was never going to forget.
CHAPTER 10
Molly was waiting on a bench outside the Paper Pixie when Kara called her name from across the street. Molly bounced up and waved back, watching as her sister scurried across the slushy street.
“I hope you weren’t sitting out there for long,” Kara said, alarm flashing in her bright blue eyes. “It’s freezing out here. I went skating this morning, but I think the temperature has actually dropped since then.”
Molly just shrugged. The cold air never bothered her, and besides, she needed it to clear her mind today. She’d hoped that planning this wedding would make her feel excited about the prospect of marrying Todd, but all it did was fill her with more doubts.
“Shall we?” Molly wrapped her hand around the big brass handle and pulled the door open, momentarily disarmed by the beautiful holiday display that centered the room. She reached out and touched one of the homemade paper wreaths, feeling the creaminess of the paper in her hand. For a long as she could remember, she’d loved paper—collecting and storing it, often afraid of writing on it for fear of ruining it—and pens. Colored pens. Sparkly ink. One year she’d received a calligraphy set for
Christmas. She wondered if her mother had kept it… She’d look when she went back to the house. Maybe she would do her own lettering for the menus or something. As they liked to suggest at the magazine, a personal touch was always important at a wedding.
“You always did love paper.” Kara laughed under her breath.
“I still do.” Molly sighed. “You should see my bedroom closet in my apartment. It’s my guilty pleasure. That and all things romance.”
“It didn’t surprise any of us that you took that job at the bridal magazine,” Kara observed.
It was true. The job was a perfect fit. A childhood fantasy come true. For as long as she could remember, she’d loved the idea of weddings: the ball gown, the flowers, the music swelling as the tension built and the bride appeared as people rose, and of course the walk down the aisle. She’d always wanted a long aisle. Long enough to build up the anticipation, to stretch the drama to maximum capacity. And then of course the cake. Who didn’t love wedding cakes, often too pretty to want to eat?
She’d planned her wedding at least two dozen times, starting at the age of ten, when she’d wanted everything to be purple, right down to the lilac bridesmaid dresses. The one setback in her fantasy was that her father was no longer with them to walk her down the aisle. She had cried about this when the realization first hit her, but Luke had just given her a quizzical look and told her that was what he was for—if she’d let him.
Molly smiled at the memory, of how eager her brother was to soften her heartache, even though they both knew he could never fill their father’s shoes, and didn’t intend to, either. Now she suddenly missed her father more than ever, and not just because he wouldn’t be here to walk her down the aisle. Something told her that her father would know how to help her through her mixed feelings better than her mother could.
Molly stopped and picked up a scrapbook. It was similar to the ones she’d filled over the years, collecting ideas for her wedding cake, her dress, her shoes, her bouquet… Her visions had gradually changed over the years, but one thing had never wavered. She would get married on Valentine’s Day. And now… she was about to do just that.
